My top hat
full of thick liquid.

It looks like the sun
dazzled itself to nausea,
through the window of
desperate fingerprints
- to my precious
black, top hat.

I can feel
under my body, the ***** marks
people left before
me, when grunting and
******* and crying.

The ***** at the reception,
filled crosswords and smoked
two at a time,
told I will enjoy my time
at their guesthouse

- with teeth, that could
make dentists despise
their job.

In the closet, my clothes
dropped from the hanger
- guess they have given up.

I'm still considering,
using my precious
top hat.